GOD, CLASSICS DEPARTMENT OFFICE, HURRY AND OPEN THE HELL UP SO I CAN HAND THIS THING IN AND BE RID OF IT.

Ugh. Niggly detail-work (ie, inserting page references) = mind-numbing.

The fact that I have to go to class today: ultimate cruelty.

Gosh. I hadn't actually totted up a full wordcount before, but those little extras like appendices and, uh, individual chapter conclusions really do add up. With just the introduction and main conclusion to go, I may have to watch that I don't spill over the limit.

Conclusion: don't procrastinate on conclusions.

ETA: DING DING DING! GODWIN'S LAW = BROKEN. Properly, this time, even, instead of oblique hints. I only wish this article was relevant enough to include.

P x (t/[L→ ∞]) = Ds → 0

where:

P = productivity
t = time left
L = number of Lolbrey & Lmaoturin doodles in the margin
Ds = probability of getting dissertation done on time

This is the sort of editorial that I have to try and be unbiased about in my dissertation.

( The bull that is Erin, the grandeur that was Rome. )

YEAH.

Just found out that dissertation deadline is three whole days later than I thought it was!

\o/

Thing: maintaining a coherent chronological narrative of the debate on [X] issue, whilst simultaneously not pinballing wildly between sub-topics from paragraph to paragraph? Is annoyingly difficult.

Can't I just submit a spider diagram instead?

*structural agony*

Princess Arjumand Ch. 3: progressing acceptably. Structurally, it is probably horrendous, but that is what c&p and allocated draft!dissertation->real!dissertation time is for. Right now, I am just concerned with getting the information down on paper. Screen. Thing.

Time for a cup of chamomile and a nap before hitting the next chunk of notes.

Mmm, productive polyphasia.

Off to catch the bus for another thirteen hours at the library.

(Just looking at that sentence makes me die a little inside.)

Or: many of you east-coasters will have just gone to bed after staying up too late to RP. I will be getting kicked out of the library at the same time that you're leaving work tomorrow. Today. Whatever.

Conclusion: you should tell me/leave me nice things in the comments so that I can regain a little of my will to live during coffee-breaks. Bonus points if said things involve attractive celebrities, silly comment-fic, or animals adopting other animals.

For own reference.

Guys, I am (failing at) writing a dissertation chapter on linguistics (of which I have only ever taken a few hours' worth of classes) w/r/t the intercourse of Latin (which I have never studied) and Old Irish (the modern evolution of which I only know in theory), and what conclusions might or might not be drawn from such re: Roman presence in Ireland (inconclusive).

This shit is bad enough when you have increasing difficulty understanding and deciphering papers on subjects you have studied for YEARS. I actually just want to make a fort of books and cry.

Welcome back, paid account!

I am setting out on the final reading!push of Princess Arjumand Draft 1, Chapter 2 (to be followed by a nap - hopefully longer than the one I just TRIED to take, boo - and then the final writing!push). By the time I am finished, I will (uh, hopefully) have finished in three days, hazardous amounts of Red Bull, a polyphasic sleep schedule, many, many hours of Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 26 in D Major on repeat, and a partridge in a pear tree, what usually takes me a good week of skulking sullenly around the library and procrastinating.

Maybe this is karmic redressment for the wailing and rending of garments / library shenanigans / drifts of paper everywhere that accompanied Ch.1? Whatever, I'm not complaining.

Anyway, my point was: COMMENT SPAM. Quick, before I decide not to push my luck and delete my LJ again until everything is handed in! Pretty pictures! Rants! Drabbles! Retarded youtube clips of babies and cats! GO.

Oh, EndNote. I hate your unintuitiveness with a... large... hate, but. Never leave me.

*collapses and naps*

Close enough to 2/3 that it doesn't matter; starting to sliiiightly lose track of what I am talking about.

*rubs face*

Also, until I get my hands on a particular issue of Emania and incorporate the contents into a later draft of this chapter (thanks Trinity librarians, for misreading my handwriting!), it may as well be titled Material Evidence, OR, Why I Hate Vittorio Di Martino. Why, why did I choose to be all meta and write about the scholarship/controversy/debate surrounding the Romans in Ireland, instead of the Romans in Ireland their-much-disputed-existencey-selves? Internally shrieking 'how much crystal meth were you on when you reached this conclusion?' is only entertaining so many times.

I don't have enough 'amusingly spastic/futile rage' icons.

Dingdingding! The I-hate-everything halfway hump.

*smacks self, downs Red Bull, and keeps going*

1/3!

Walk also taken; junk food and enough caffeine to kill a man last me through the night thusly obtained.

Dinnertime.

You're all finding this chronicle fascinating, I know.

I'm wary of saying that this chapter is like pulling teeth, because the last time I said that, I hit my stride around 9pm and ended up around 2,000 words over-count by morning.

But still.

Okay. I have my notes, a rough outline, a solid introduction, and a plan to acquire massive amounts of caffeine later in the day. Princess Arjumand, draft #1, chapter #1, here I come. Friendslist, expect massive amounts of spam. Alternatively, mutually enabling procrastination: leave me commentspam (bonus points for drabbles or pictures of hot people!), or continue asking my RP characters questions.